


gonna build you up, gonna help you believe

by patchworkgirlofoz



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: M/M, like a lot of hinting about fjord's childhood which is pretty rough, lil bit of body horror lil bit of beheading, typical green knight stuff nothing wild
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-22
Updated: 2020-04-22
Packaged: 2021-03-01 19:41:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,295
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23782555
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/patchworkgirlofoz/pseuds/patchworkgirlofoz
Summary: Listen. Have you ever looked at the story of Sir Gawain and the Green Knight, maybe at a tender and impressionable young age and deeply imprinted on it, but wanted so badly to change 95% of what happens in that story? Cool, me too.
Relationships: Caduceus Clay/Fjord
Comments: 32
Kudos: 93





	gonna build you up, gonna help you believe

Fjord raised his flagon in a toast alongside the stout, grizzled looking pirate next to him, the rum spilling between them as they cheered. He grinned back at him and lifted the remaining liquid to his lips, though he was careful not to drink too much. 

There was always a good reason to keep on edge when among the patchwork fleet that made up this particular acquaintance and treaty. No one among this group of rowdy rascals could be trusted to keep good faith if their ma’s lives depended on it, and Fjord was no longer a wet-behind-the ears cur who would be fooled into thinking otherwise. 

And the occasion for such a celebration? Why, no more or less than that they had broken the second seal placed on Uk’otoa. It had been one more chain broken on the slow march to release him from his prison beneath the deep blue sea. Only through the collective effort of their crews, Fjord’s own ship the Mistake among them, had this goal been accomplished. 

Many had died in the effort, but tonight was for celebrating that they weren’t the sorry bastards among them. 

Fjord glanced over across the crowded and noisy mess hall. Captain Avantika of the Squall-Eater, the leader of their merry band of misfits and pirates, hadn’t moved yet to join in their celebration. She had swung both her legs upon the table, leaning down into her chair, and was surveying them with a wicked grin. Above her, being that this was her ship, the symbol of the Ouroboros with nine eyes and swallowing its tail was emblazoned proudly.

She met Fjord’s eye across the room and her gaze grew sharper yet. Fjord knew better than to duck away from her attention, and instead met it head on, though the hairs on the back of his neck stood up all the more for it. He knew she saw him as a challenger for her position in their makeshift fleet. Uk’otoa spoke to Fjord in his dreams as well, though he would not give Avantika the satisfaction to know the great sea serpent spoke much less clearly to him. 

It was a fine line he tread, just dangerous enough to be kept by her side as a powerful asset, but not so dangerous or a challenge as to be thought of as a threat to be rid of. 

At that moment, the doors to the mess slammed open. The thunder cracked outside, illuminating the figure, and all heads turned to see who it was that had entered so late in the night. 

Framed in the door while the storm raged behind him was a gigantic figure. He was so tall that he had to bow his head to fit, large antlers scraping the wood as he passed underneath. Fjord wasn’t sure if man or beast applied to the description of the stranger. Not only was he so tall that his head nearly scraped the ceiling, but a living coat made of moss, vines, and all manner of living things was draped over his head and shoulders. It was such that it became impossible to glance beyond the convergence of plants to see any such features resembling a mortal being, or otherwise that which could be familiar among them. 

They were no cowardly men, these pirates and vagabonds of the sea which made up Uk’otoa’s faithful. Still, they flinched back as the tall figure stepped forward. A crowd parted to make way as he passed, stumbling back into chairs and tables alike.

One step, than another, each heavier than the last. Seaweed fell from his drenched coat and trailed from behind him as he moved forward, forming a path of salt water in his wake. As he passed by the crew of the Mistake’s table, Fjord could make out there were mushrooms growing out from the skin of his exposed neck and cheekbone, and the back of his hand which was visible from beneath the cloak.

Halfway through the room, the large figure finally stopped. From his cloak he dropped a heavy shield that might have punctured the floor with its weight. It was emblazoned with a woman’s face, her hair spread out into vines and leaves behind her. From his other hand, he drew out a strange, glowing longsword. This, he presented before him with a flourish. 

It was an absolutely beautiful blade; well-crafted silver, with a slight bluish shimmer indicative of some fell power or magic that had been forged into it.

Avantika finally moved. She swung her feet off the table and slammed her flagon down. A blood-red wine poured out from it, and onto the table. “And who might you be, wanderer?” She spoke, “I don’t remember inviting a specktor of your kind to my table.” Her voice was cold and calm in contrast to the nervous energy that radiated from those surrounding her. 

“And my pardon for interrupting,” The stranger said, “I am known as the Green Knight in my own lands, and I venture only to your territories to share in your good fortune. I have come to offer a game. A celebitory game, for your accomplished feats within the past fortnight.”

Avantika, though still without standing up, drew out her rapier. 

“And what would you know of our feats?” She said, casually. She speared her meat on the end of the blade, and brought it to her mouth. She began to chew, her eyes never leaving the stranger’s. 

Following the motion, the sound of metal scraping came as each of the tables around her - the captains of each ship harbored here as well as those crewmates they’d brought alone - all drew their own swords, notched their arrows, and brought out their knives. Fjord did as well, drawing his falchion from its magical dimension. The yellow eye in the hilt stared unblinkingly up at him. He tried to draw more strength from that image than he did fear. 

The Green Knight seemed unperturbed by any of this.

“Attack me if you must,” he said, “But you will not slay me.” His voice was deep and rich, and carried such a calm confidence in it that it was hard not to believe in it. But no man was immortal, as Fjord well knew. 

Avantika tilted her head, eyes bright with curiosity. “And what game do you present?” 

“I propose a friendly challenge. A game, as I have said.” The Green Knight swept his longsword out in a slow, deliberate motion to address each table, the Captains and their crew members, in turn. As it came to Fjord, he saw underneath the vines and crawling creatures that were two bright pink eyes, staring unblinking at him.

“Not one of your allies has the power to kill me today, but I will allow one such champion one strike with the Dwueth’var, the Star Razor blade I hold in my hand. They will be allowed then to keep the weapon for a year and a day.” 

Fjord leaned forward, intrigued despite himself. It didn’t sound like any game he had ever heard of and he knew he should be wary of bargains made by strange creatures. But you had to be a fool not to notice the power emanating from that weapon. He’d never felt anything like that before. To imagine the possibilities of something like that in his hand, adding Uk’otoa’s pact to it, was tempting.

Avantika was looking his way, just as hungry for it, Fjord knew. But she turned back to the Green Knight.

“And your conditions?” She asked.

There was a pause. There appeared to be a curve of something like a mouth under the cloak, until that disappeared beneath a curtain of moving leaves. “Only two. The first is that the weapon is returned to my hands exactly in the shape and condition as I present it to you here. The second; that whomever strikes me must travel to find me in one year’s time, so that I might return the exact same hit to them, come a year and a day past.”

Fjord glanced over at Avantika again, whose expression had not changed. However, her hand upon the table had tightened its grip to where her knuckles had gone white. A bead of sweat dripped down her forehead. She might not have believed that the Green Knight was immortal, but she was hesitating now.

Fjord had no such hesitations. He could see opportunity as clear before him as anything. He stood up and all eyes in the room, including Avantika’s dark glare, watched as he strode across the room.

The Green Knight tilted his head down to watch as he approached. Fjord reached out his hand.

“Seems a simple challenge,” Fjord said, boldly, “I only need to lop off your head. What does it matter if you aren’t there to return the blow in a year?” 

That brought laughter and even jeers from the once-hushed crowd on either side of them, and Fjord felt all the more smug for it. Avantika’s glower at his back was even better. But the Green Knight seemed neither upset nor offended at his bluster. 

“Very well,” The Green Knight said. He stepped forward, and Fjord had to stop himself from backing away in response. Then he leaned down, and dropped the sword into his hand. 

Fjord bit back a curse. It was unexpectedly heavy, and he had to bring up both hands on the hilt in order to avoid it skidding out of his grasp. But that only meant it would be all the easier to swing it down and, with the full force of the weight and his strength, lop off the Green Knight’s head in one clean blow.

Then he could keep the sword and prove to many watching that Avantika’s time as the most favored chosen of Uk’otoa was nearing the natural conclusion. That would extend his own precious time in this world as well. You had to keep clawing upward if you ever wanted to keep breathing.

Speak of the devil, he felt her gaze white-hot on his back as he lifted the longsword over his head. As obedient as he had promised, the Green Knight dropped to his knees at Fjord’s feet. The sight had him faltering for only a moment as Fjord’s mind tried to figure out what sort of trick could possibly be played on him here - and how could he get out of it, when it was sprung? 

But he steeled his nerve, and with all his might Fjord brought down the sword in a clean swoop. 

The blow was clean and precise, with no malice to it to intend further suffering. Indeed, it was closer to the kills he had made to animals in his time. From where the neck had been cloven through, the head dropped to the floor and rolled a little way, closer to Fjord than he would have liked. He saw that same strange pair of pink eyes staring at him.

He saw them blink.

Shuddering, Fjord only faintly heard the cheering around him turn to cries of surprise as the tall body, very calmly, pushed up from the floor and stood on its feet. The body of the Green Knight began to move forward to collect its missing head as though it had lost nothing but a ring on its finger.

Fjord watched, the blood pounding in his ears, as the Green Knight slowly bent down to pick up his head. Instead of putting it back on his neck, he pushed it forward to Anvantika. The lips opened. 

“The sword is the Captain’s for a year and a day, and not your own,” The Green Knight’s head spoke. “And then you must let him go when he choses, or this will not be the last time we meet.” 

What her reaction was to that, Fjord was uncertain. He was too focused on keeping himself upright, as the reality of what he had sworn to, truly set in. He could feel the crowd withdraw away from him, even as the whispering rose around them for what had occured. 

But he was not left alone with his thoughts. For the Green Knight, when he turned to leave, paused at the door to look back in Fjord’s direction. 

“If you are a man of honor, you will find the Blooming Grove in a year and one day’s time, and there we will finish our game.” The Green Knight said. “Bring me the sword exactly as I have presented it to you.”

Fjord gritted his teeth, and managed to nod in response, if only just. 

\---

He set off on his venture a good month and a half before the agreed upon date would arrive, not knowing how to find the being that called himself the Green Knight or even where to start looking. Leaving the seas behind was as much a relief as it was painful. He watched the Mistake lift anchor and head into the choppy waves without him, with an ache that was so real he had to dig his nails into the soft flesh of his palm to distract himself from the sight.

Still, another part of his soul felt free of some terrible burden. It wasn’t a significant improvement, to trade one bargain for the next, but Fjord allowed himself to feel some relief for it.

He had wandered through the coastline for the first twenty odd days of his journey, simply hanging around inns and taverns - asking questions or seeing if anyone had beheld a vision such as he had, of a tall man covered in all manner of growing things. There were many stories back he heard in return of his own tale. Stories that involved grieving family being beset upon their paths and guided to a strange place off to the wild forests of the north for burial there. They said there were many strange people who lived there, so close to nature they were wild for it. 

Nothing at all came close to the image of a man overtaken so much by vines and leaves that only his eyes were visible beneath. Certainly no deals like the one Fjord spoke of, or horrors brought to life in the middle of a sea storm. No rolling heads. 

Still, the leads all pointed in the same direction, and the name the Green Knight had provided as well. The Blooming Grove. So, directly towards the mountains Fjord went.

The trek itself was dangerous and wild, and not many men alone would be capable of surviving it. Fjord had his cursed-blessed falchion and the experience of someone who had long had to look over his back and stay awake through the night to guard against being attacked while he was vulnerable. It wasn’t an easy path, but he cut through with grit and determination, until he encountered the town at the edge of the Savalirwood. There, he was guided to a small path that led him to a temple nestled right outside the thickest and most brambled heart of the forest. 

Fjord wasn’t sure what image of this temple he had held in his mind before he had arrived, but what he found was far more peaceful than he had expected.

It was small, homely looking, built of grey stones. It had the look of a place that had been there for so long that the earth was starting to grow over it. There was a trail of smoke which billowed out from the chimney. Vines grew over the grey stones of the building, with small purple flowers blossoming as they crawled upward towards the night sky above. A little garden curled around the outside. Fjord stopped at the small wooden gate before it.

“Hello,” he called. “I have been told there is a priest who lives here, of some renown.” 

After a slight pause, there was a creaking noise. The door to the temple opened, and Fjord turned to the sound and saw a tall, fae-featured man step out from the doorway. He was pale and very thin, his hair shaved on one side and falling to the other, soft pink in color. Fjord thought he made for a striking and unusual figure indeed.

“Oh,” the stranger said. “A guest, how delightful. Please do come in.” 

“Thank you,” Fjord said, opening the gate and walking down the small stone path which cut through the garden.. He took off his hat, as was polite. “I have traveled a long way.”

The stranger smiled. “You must come in and rest. I will put on a kettle.” 

Fjord approached him, grateful for his easy friendliness. Perhaps that was how all priests were - he hadn’t met many. There were none who would call themselves such in service of Uk’otoa, only warlocks and sorcerers and bandits. “My name is Fjord,” he said, and stretched out his hand.

The priest clasped his hand in both of his own, and shook it firmly. “Caduceus,” he said, “Caduceus Clay. Welcome.” He extended his hand, and guided Fjord through the doorway. As they stepped through, Fjord raised his head and watched as tiny dust specks floated where the low candlelight illuminated the small interior. 

There was also a spider web above the door and Fjord was glad the door frame was so large so he could avoid touching it. Inside, the place looked homely and comfortable; well lived in, he would say. The furniture was worn and somewhat discolored, as though they had been bleached by sunlight and age. He could tell the woodwork was well crafted even with his unpracticed gaze. Also, the cushions placed on them were plusha and comfortable as Fjord discovered when he sat cautiously on one of the armchairs. 

Before too long at all, a ceramic saucer and cup of tea were pressed into his hands. Fjord felt his palms greedily absorb the warmth radiating from the teacup before he could bring the liquid to his lips. It had been quite cold this time of year to go venturing into the northernmost parts of the continent, and the material of his gloves had grown thin and patchy as he’d traveled. 

This Mr. Caduceus Clay, after he had finished busying himself, came to sit before Fjord on the opposite side of the small dining table. “How is it?” He asked, seeming to be genuinely curious of Fjord’s opinion on the matter.

Fjord settled the cup back on the saucer. “Very good,” he said, finding it was the honest answer, and not just something to be said to one’s host, out of gratitude for indulging of your presence. The tea was strange, not like any he’d tasted before, but it had a delicious and rich flavor. “Thank you.”

Caduceus beamed at him. “I’m glad you like it.”

Fjord put the cup and saucer down on the armrest, and leaned further between them. “I am here for a very certain reason and I’m hopeful you may be able to help.” At Caduceus’ open expression, Fjord continued. “I had made - well, a bargain of a kind, a little less than a year ago. Have you heard of a place called the Blooming Grove?”

The priest’s eyes twinkled. “Ah,” he said. “I do believe that is familiar to me.” 

“I am needing to venture there within three days' time, to fulfill a promise to someone. No earlier, and no later..”

“Well,” Caduceus said, “You should need to rest here until that time comes.”

“I would be grateful if you would allow that,” Fjord said. He had planned on it, actually, but he’d found out early in life how quickly you could get kicked out of a place if you didn’t play at being demure and overly grateful. “I wouldn’t want to intrude on you or anyone else.” He didn’t think anyone else lived here. From what he had seen of this small temple, it must have only been the priests and birds and perhaps some pests that occupied it. 

Caduceus reached out and squeezed Fjord’s hand. “You are welcome here,” he said, kindly. 

Despite himself, Fjord felt affected by the gesture. He could not remember a time when he had been offered a roof over his head so quickly, not without some kind of wheedling and bargaining. But this priest had given him his home so freely, and that was not something Fjord took lightly. 

He covered the hand holding his, and squeezed back. “Thank you,” he said. “Truly. I won’t impose more than necessary. If there are rules you wish me to follow, I will oblige them, and without question.” 

Caduceus pulled his hands back. He tilted his head slightly, regarding Fjord with curiosity. 

“This is a household where... everything was, or is, shared amongst each other,” He finally spoke, after a considering pause. “Given that, I ask for this. Whatever you benefit from or find during the day you will share with me, and I will do the same for you.”

Fjord smiled. Everything in this temple already belonged to the priest and, besides, Fjord would only be here for three days. But he was glad to oblige it, as he would be the main beneficiary of such a deal. 

“Very well,” he agreed. 

“What is mine, is yours,” Caduceus said, with a slow smile. “And what is yours is mine, for all the while you choose to spend your time under this roof..” 

Fjord raised his teacup. For a moment, the priest looked confused, before a light entered his eyes. “Ah,” Caduceus said, and then raised his own cup to clink against Fjord’s, sealing the promise between them.

Though it had been nearly nightfall by the time Fjord had made his way to the temple, they stayed up a little while. Some of this was light chatter, but most surprisingly Fjord found a quiet comfort in the priest’s presence, that was as odd as it was welcome. He could not remember the last time he felt so relaxed sitting in a meditative silence with someone else. Perhaps it was that he was a holy man, and Fjord’s brain had allowed it was unlikely he’d turn violent on them. This was especially something to be grateful for as his body started to unwind from the long journey’s trek up north. It would be nice to sleep in a safe place. 

Eventually, his eyes grew heavy. Caduceus led him to a small room at the first floor of the temple, which Fjord’s tired brain noted was very different from a guest’s quarters. There were personal touches; little carvings kept nice and neat on the wooden shelves, and a quilted comforter that was lovingly sewn together. Although it was a space kept neat and orderly, there was dust piling in every corner. It didn’t seem as though it was often used, at least not in recent years. 

Fjord pushed that thought out of his mind, as he was too tired for speculation, and burrowed under the covers, grateful for a night’s rest out of the cold.

\---

The next morning, the warm sunlight pushed through the curtains and fell upon Fjord’s face. He raised a hand to block the most direct hit, even as he forced his eyes open. It was much later in the morning than when he was accustomed to wake, which was strange. To feel this comfortable in a stranger’s house and presence - or anywhere, at all, was unfathomable for Fjord. And yet, here he was sliding his legs out of bed and into wool slippers that had been left out just for him. Fjord yawned, stretching his arms over his head. He couldn’t think of the last time he’d felt as relaxed. 

The paranoid part of him, the sea brat who’d drowned only to be rescued by a fearful power, wondered if maybe there had been something he’d ingested in the tea. 

There came a knock on the door before he could spiral down that particular path. “Fjord?” Asked the priest.

Fjord yawned again, in spite of himself. 

“I won’t be back until evening,” the voice sounded apologetic. “I will come home with food to share, if you will share what you find from your day as well.”

That sounded like the easiest bargain Fjord had ever made, and he’d made a few bargains in his time. “I promise,” Fjord said. And then, because he really did want to know, “I’ll talk to you later tonight?”

There was a chuckle on the other side of the door. “Of course. Until then, Mr. Fjord.” 

“Until then, Priest Clay.” 

\---

Fjord found himself bored before the mid-noon sun. It wasn’t exactly a new feeling. For all the stories of glory and viciousness, more than half of a pirate’s life out at sea was walking around aimlessly on a small radius of ship while nothing much of anything happened. One grew used that caged feeling in the chest. Only usually, there were companions of a sort to gamble with or entertain or fight. 

Here, left alone by the priest, Fjord had only his own restlessness for company. 

Despite his best efforts, in this condition his curiosity about his host only grew. What was the strange little room that Fjord had stayed in, too well loved to be a room only for guests but so clearly in disuse? He had been told this was a temple of a kind, well respected by those in the town just outside it, but of what kind? And, knowing the reputation of the Savalirwood where Fjord was to meet his final fate - what sort of man or creature chose to live their daily life in it, right outside that tangled and most dangerous heart of the forest?

Eventually torn between boredom and curiosity, Fjord left the confines of what he knew he had been allowed; the room he slept in, the entryway, the kitchen. The priest had not said in so many words that he was not allowed to open the other rooms, but it was a habit of Fjord’s that you couldn’t assume what you weren’t allowed to step in. So, he had to be cautious. 

Fjord glanced at the spiraling stairwell which led upstairs to which, he could only assume, was where the priest slept. He’d heard those stairs creak last night when the priest had retired to his room.

Better leave that for another day. No - it was best to start small, when you are testing boundaries, especially in case you are caught doing so. The kitchen first, then. 

He entered the small space and was unsurprised to see dry herbs and flowers bundled together and hanging from the ceiling. A rusty iron pot was set on top of a brick oven, which must’ve been connected to the chimney Fjord saw smoke pouring through last night. There were also many other pans and pots that were set aside on a small counter next to it. In the middle of the room was a wooden table that held a few small jars containing various colored spices.

At the back of the kitchen was a shelf that was almost overburdened with jars and jams, jellies and containers of leaves of various sorts which Fjord could guess one of which must have been what had been in his tea the night before. The wood that made the shelves was stronger than it looked for what it carried, and he might not have been a carpenter, but it was clear that the shelves were well crafted. It was also the least dusty area of this house that Fjord had found so far, save for the stove itself. 

Out of the corner of his eye, Fjord saw hanging on one of the walls was a large wooden symbol. It appeared to be a staff set against a wreath of flowers. It seemed… familiar to him, somehow. As if a memory was tugging at the corner of his skull. 

He took a step forward to it.

A gust of wind blew in from the open kitchen window, blowing leaves and dust that had collected on the floors and some of the surfaces up into its grasp. 

Fjord frowned. It almost seemed like the wooden carving of the wreath had moved as well, petals gently tugging in the wind. But that couldn’t be right. He raised a hand to his eyes, trying to wipe away some of the dust that must have smeared his vision. 

He took a step back, eyes going wide as the wind started to solidify before him, curving into shapes of tumbling curls and soft cheeks, the bump of a nose, and laughing eyes. He took another step back and hit one of the tables, causing a few jars of spices to tumble and break upon the floor. 

The spirit before him laughed, a light sound like a windchime in the breeze. “Do not be afraid, my child,” she said. With each moment, her appearance began to solidify before him. Her skin was a rich brown, and her eyes were a golden amber. Her hair spread out before her like so many curling roots, each one longer than the rest, and she was covered by a cloak made out of leaves and vines and flowers. 

“Who are you?” Fjord asked. 

He knew better than to run. He’d tried that, before, but Uk’otoa had found him no matter how far he’d gone. If a creature with that amount of power wanted your attention you could not escape from it. 

She smiled at him, a handsome grin with perfect white teeth. They were too perfect to be real, and too sharp to be comforting. “I am known as the Wildmother. Melora. The goddess of all things wild on land or on sea. I do not need an introduction from you, young Fjord. I have known of your presence for some time now.” 

Fjord didn’t call for his falchion. He couldn’t trust it here. Instead, he grabbed the hilt of his long sword, which he had kept sheathed and hidden from sight almost from the moment he had won it. He pulled it out, and pointed it in her direction. The blade almost hummed with power, the silver metal shining nearly blue in the sunlight. 

The Wildmother only looked amused. “You cannot harm me with that blade, child.” 

“Who are you?” Fjord asked again, his voice pitched high in panic, “What are you doing here?”

“As I said, I am the Wildmother. As for what I am doing here,” She stretched out her arms around her. “This is my temple. I could ask you that same question.” She looked back at him, and Fjord shuddered. That wasn’t a human gaze, but far too ancient. He felt that with that one look she could see straight through to the bone of him. 

He lowered his blade. Honestly might be his only route. “I was invited to stay by the - by your priest.” 

The Wildmother clasped her hands together in delight. “By my Clay.”

“Yes.”

“He is a sweet child,” She said. She tilted her head, and regarded him curiously. “What did he ask of you, in exchange that you might stay under his roof?”

Fjord sheathed his sword, though with that he felt completely exposed. He figured, if she was a god as she had claimed, she could probably kill him with or without it. He didn’t feel like he understood the point of her questioning. “Only to share anything I might have while he’s away,” he said, awkwardly. “It seemed reasonable.”

She nodded. “It seemed easy,” she said. Fjord grimaced. “Not very much to ask of a wanderer. But he is such a lonely child.” She stared unblinking at him. “Have you thought of what you might provide in return?”

“Uh....” Fjord couldn’t hide his confusion, nor could he come up with a quick enough lie. “No?”

Her disapproval was almost palpable. “That won’t do,” she said, “The priest will be done with his duties soon, and then he will go out and find ingredients for supper, which he will provide to you. And you, his guest, have no gifts to give in return.”

“... and what do you suggest?” Fjord asked, wary. 

She floated up to the shelves, resting against them. Despite knowing she probably had no real weight as a living creature would, Fjord still flinched, half-expecting them to break or fall under the added pressure. 

“Do you know how to make tea?” She asked. 

\---

When Caduceus finally arrived home, it was as the sun set behind the trees. Fjord had carefully arranged the candlelight so that all the windows in the temple were glowing. He was hopeful it would be a pleasant surprise to see, and that he would remember there was a guest inside, not that Caduceus would think there were bandits in his temple or anything.

Feeling a little anxious for reasons Fjord wasn’t exactly sure of, and certainly didn’t want to speculate too much on, he started setting up. He found a tablecloth in one of the drawers that was only slightly chewed on the edges - from pests or what else, he wasn’t sure. That went over the table.

There were more than enough candles. He put two on tea saucers and placed those on the table as well. He had already set out the tea kettle and poured two hot cups of tea when he had the sudden thought that this was all maybe a little bit too much for showing gratitude to one’s host. 

It was at that time that he heard the creak of the temple door, so it was too late to change anything. He plopped down on one side of the table, grabbed a teacup in his hands so that he looked like he had been in the moment of enjoying himself and not overthinking anything, and smiled as Caduceus Clay entered the doorway.

The priest was carrying a small bag over one shoulder. He caught Fjord’s eye as he scanned over the room. He did look a little surprised, but he smiled back, and it seemed genuine. 

“You’ve made tea,” He said, as he pulled off his cloak and hung it on the coat rack by the door.

“Er, I did.” Fjord said. “It took a few tries to figure out what everything was in there. I’m afraid the first cup I made was an undrinkable poison nightshade blend.”

Caduceus chuckled. “You didn’t try that, I hope.”

Fjord ducked his head. “Nah,” he said, “I got a pretty good warning.” 

The priest didn’t ask for specifics, which was pretty good, because Fjord wasn’t sure how to explain that what he meant by a ‘pretty good warning’ was that a god, whom he pretty sure Caduceus worshipped, had apparated out of the wind for no other reason that he could figure other to chide him into being a good guest and, apparently, to stop him from accidentally killing himself and his gentle host while doing so. 

Admittedly, that was an overreaction. The portion of nightshade they would have ingested probably wouldn’t be able to kill anyone. Most likely, they would have both gone to bed with bad stomach cramps. Fjord didn’t want to say anything about Caduceus’s god appearing to warn him away from causing stomach cramps, for sure. It was flippant sounding on the border of sacreligious, even if it was true. 

“I only need a few moments to prepare supper,” Caduceus said. He gestured to the small sack over his shoulder with his free arm. “Roots, vegetables, beats. I was thinking of a salad.”

“No, please do,” Fjord said, “That sounds delicious.” His stomach rumbled in agreement. He hadn’t had lunch, though he had tasted almost all of the different varieties of teas. The kitchen was probably a mess. He hoped Caduceus wouldn’t take unkindly to that. 

“Good,” Caduceus said, then paused. He looked a little taken aback. “Thank you,” he said, “It has been… a while. A very long while since I have had company during mealtime. I think I will enjoy this very much.” 

Fjord couldn’t help but smile in response. “Yes, for me also. Not exactly the same but...” He stopped himself, not sure why he wanted to finish the sentence ‘with someone I can trust’. They were strangers to one another, and this was a temporary thing. 

Very temporary. His stomach sank as he thought about the approaching date that loomed above him. These past few months, he had managed to push it out of his mind, focusing instead on the great task it had been to even find the right directions that he had little time to feel miserable about his fate. 

However now, in the middle of this small, warm temple with its kind priest, Fjord could almost feel the whisper of a blade against his neck like a promise. 

“Fjord?” There was a hand on his shoulder, a low, concerned voice calling his name. 

He waved Caduceus’ concern off. “I’m fine,” He said, and managed a smile. “I’ll be fine.”

\---

“This is hard for you, isn’t it?” The Wildmother said to him, the next day. “Living from one meal to the next, every place you’ve ever found has rejected you from growing roots there, no matter how desperately you craved to belong to something, to someone. You found survival in a constantly changing ocean where you always had to be the strongest or else perish, but now that you have a taste of what comfort and home might really feel, you think it may be too late.”

“What are you doing here?” Fjord asked, at the last moment dropping the shovel instead of chucking it at her. His voice could have been more respectful, only the shock and irritation overcame his better senses. 

Thankfully, the god just looked amused. 

“What are you doing here?” She echoed. “Do you know how to garden anything at all?” 

“It can’t be that hard,” Fjord said, though he already had been struggling, and she probably knew it. He didn’t know what the point of lying about it was but he also knew that he didn’t want to admit that he was having a rough time, either. 

“I would not be here if you weren’t bothering them,” She said dryly, referring to - at Fjord’s best guess - the garden plants. 

Fjord let out a long, drawn-out sigh. “I listened to what you said,” he said, “I’m being a good guest. I don’t know what Cad - what Priest Clay’s responsibilities are that call him away from the temple for two full days in a row, but I thought tending to his garden might be something even I could help with.”

“He is preparing for my ceremony,” The Wildmother said. Her eyes were faraway and blank, for while she was looking in Fjord’s direction, he couldn’t feel anything behind her gaze. Then she blinked, and her eyes returned to brightness. “It is a very delicate, very special circumstance. Everything must be just right, you see. If not, everything building to it could shatter and fall apart. You understand.”

“Right,” Fjord said, who didn’t. 

She smiled. “You will.”

Very cryptic. “I’m just going to... go back to it, then,” Fjord said, reaching down for the shovel, only to be stopped by a supernaturally cool hand against his wrist.

The Wildmother looked at him with such genuine kindness and warmth that Fjord found it hard to remain irritated with Her. 

“Wait,” She commanded, and he let the shovel fall back in the dirt. “If you would like to help, you only need to pull out the weeds. It isn’t very difficult to do, and that is all this garden needs now. Well,” and She smiled, “that and a little water, perhaps.” 

“Right,” Fjord said, rolling up his sleeves. “I can do that. I’ve pulled weeds before.”

As he bent down, pushing aside one of the thicker bushes to start yanking out the first few weeds, he felt the light brush of wind against his arm. The hairs on his arm raised up in response. He looked over to his right side, only to find that She had glided over to his left.

“An easy task,” The Wildmother said, “Simple enough to give a child. The orphanage provided you with just enough that you wouldn’t die, but you could make a little more by helping the gardeners at various manors around the seaside. Until you grew too much teeth for their rich masters, and you were locked from their gates for good.” 

“Alright, are you going to do that the whole time?” Fjord said. 

She smiled at him, and pulled a flower from her sleeve. She reached out and tucked it behind his ear. Then She vanished, and it was just him glaring at the wind like a real fool.

Letting out a huff of frustration, Fjord returned to his task with a new found determination. 

\---

Tonight, Caduceus had made soup and little sandwiches, which he had cut into triangles.

It was a warm, hearty vegetable broth and was mostly made of mushrooms. Fjord thought it was delicious but he would be the first to admit he'd pretty much eat anything put in front of him. Caduceus had chuckled when he had gone for seconds. As for the sandwiches, Fjord had polished off almost five on his own. 

Caduceus was a much slower eater. He seemed to savor each bite. First he would take a bite of his sandwich, then place it on the plate. Then he would go for a spoonful of soup. Finally, he would reach for his teacup. 

Fjord, satisfied with his supper, took a minute to simply watch. Caduceus’ hands were large, but they weren’t intimidating. His fingers were long and delicate, almost pretty. He did have a sort of languid grace to his movements as well. Which reminded him. 

“Oh! Here, I, uh.” Fjord pulled out the flower the Wildmother had given him earlier, and placed it on the table. “I found this, so.”

“Where did this come from?” Caduceus said, in wonder. “It doesn’t grow in the gardens. I’ve never seen this particular blossom before.” 

“Oh, you know. I just found it.” Fjord winced at his own explanation. Thankfully, Caduceus didn’t say anything about it. He was fascinated by the light blue flower turning purple at the ends, with the center of it in the shape of a star and just as golden. 

“It is very pretty, thank you.” Caduceus said. He smiled softly. 

Fjord felt his heart skip a beat and immediately bit back a curse, because of course he would. Of course that was what all of this it was. He could’ve wrung his own neck. 

He cleared his throat. “So, that was just an extra really. I spent most of the day just pulling out weeds,” Fjord said, then scratched the back of his neck, sheepishly. “I can’t really share that. I guess I didn’t think it through, and now that I do, it doesn’t fit the bargain.”

“No, that’s very good,” Caduceus said. “I had meant to spend some time there eventually. I’ve been so busy, these last few days. Much more so than I normally am.” His gaze became unfocused for a moment, and Fjord was reminded of the Wildmother looking past him. He suppressed a shudder.

“No, right, I’ve noticed that. Didn’t think it made much sense for you to spend all day away from your temple.” 

“Have you ever…” Caduceus trailed off. His brow creased slightly. “Wished to turn back on something you had done. Or been ashamed of a choice you had made, even if you believed in the reasons at the time?”

“Me?” Fjord snorted out a laugh. “Yes. Plenty of times.” 

Caduceus turned to him. “Really?” he asked. The force of his attention surprised Fjord.

“Almost all my life I’ve made poor decisions,” he admitted. “Sure, some of those were because I didn’t have a lot of good options. But it doesn’t mean I haven’t regretted the decisions I’ve made, or how I’ve got to where I am in life.”

Caduceus looked at him, unblinking. They were pink, his eyes. Fjord hadn’t really paid attention to them until now. They seemed familiar, somehow. 

“What kinds of decisions?” Caduceus asked.

Fjord’s hand twitched under the table. The falchion was safely tucked away in its pocket corner of the universe, but he had the urge to call it out. He could put it on the table here and now and watch as the yellow eye on the hilt stared at the temple walls and the cozy furniture. 

Caduceus would take one look at it, and know the type of monster he had invited into his home, under his roof.

Fjord felt the back of his neck tighten, the pathway of air close up on him. He gritted his teeth, pressed his fingers into the fleshy part of his palm to try and chase the edge of panic away with pain. 

“Fjord.” Caduceus had walked over to his side, and he placed one hand on Fjord’s back, ever so gently that there was almost no pressure. “You don’t have to say anything.”

“You ever feel like a monster?” Fjord asked, which was a ridiculous question to ask a priest. His voice sounded thin and reedy even in his own ears. 

“Yeah.”

That startled a laugh from Fjord’s lips. He moved sideways in his chair, looking up at Caduceus Clay. “Really? I find that hard to believe.” 

Caduceus smiled, a small movement that didn’t entirely reach his eyes.

“Huh,” Fjord said. 

“Maybe it’s a metaphor.” Caduceus said, words falling out like a sigh. He came to sit on the other side of the bench from Fjord. It wasn’t a particularly large bench. If Fjord wanted to, he could stretch out his arm and touch his hand. Not that he was sure where that impulse had come from, concerningly. Fjord brought his own hands into his lap, just in case. He’d never been great at resisting flashes of impulse. 

“A metaphor?” Fjord echoed. “What do you mean. What is?” 

“The weeds,” Caduceus said. He brushed his long hair behind his ear, where a few strands had escaped to fall in his face. He shook his head, slightly, and smiled to himself. “A garden can’t grow if you let the weeds strangle it.” 

Fjord was absolutely fascinated to know what he was thinking because he felt like he was only getting half of this conversation. 

“My family,” Caduceus said. He paused. “Well, we used to live here. Me, my aunt, my mother and father. My siblings.”

“And now… you’re alone?”

“You’re in Corrin’s room. My aunt.” Caduceus said. “I’ve been alone for many years. I’m not sure how long it has been exactly.”

Fjord, who had never known his family, struggled to figure out how to respond to that. He wasn’t even sure what the priest meant. Were the people who lived here before gone as in parted, or gone as in dearly departed? 

Before his mind could catch up, the question Fjord really wanted to ask slipped right past him, “Am I sleeping in a dead person’s room?” Then he winced.

“Every room here has been a dead person’s room at some point.” Caduceus said. “It is a very old temple.” 

“Yes, right.” Fjord said, unhappily. “That’s the answer I was looking for.” He frowned. “When you were saying - you’ve also felt like a monster before - it wasn’t because…” He’d already crossed over the line of being a graceful guest at this point, he wasn’t sure asking the priest if he’d killed his family was going to make it worse. “You know.” He waved a hand to the temple awkwardly, as the silence stretched out between them.

“Oh!” Caduceus said, understanding coming to him after a pause. “No. It is only, since they’ve been away, I’ve had to assume certain responsibilities. To the temple, to the Wildmother. She has asked much of me.” He sighed. “I struggle with certain tasks.” 

“And that makes you feel awful?” Fjord said, in an incredulous tone that startled them both. “Look… I want to be sympathetic, but I can’t imagine it.” He felt the sword’s edge he was on, deciding which way to fall, and how much he wanted to open up to this man who was little more than a stranger to him. 

But he wanted to talk to him. He wanted to talk to somebody, if only a little bit, and he didn’t have that much time left. He allowed himself to slip.

Fjord let out a breath, and admitted; “I’ve killed people, Caduceus. They were bad people - most of them - and I felt like I had to, to - to survive. But I still stabbed people in the back for my own gain. And I - ” No, he didn’t want to mention Uk’otoa here, not in this place where he had existed without him for such a brief peace. “ - I’ve made some pretty shit deals. I’ve pretty much sold my soul. And, honestly, nothing I got in return was worth it.”

Caduceus didn’t seem to take offense. “And that’s who you feel that you are now?” He asked, “Those are the choices that define you?”

“Yes,” Fjord said, emphatically. “That’s what it means. To make awful choices is what makes you an awful person.”

“Then what are you doing here?” 

What was he doing here? Had he simply sealed his fate, a year ago. Was he tracing a line of fate which he couldn’t turn from? But he could have taken his chances with his crew, with the fleet. After all, what was the power of one strange man against the might of a sea god on its own terf? Avantika had said as much. 

Or was he escaping the ocean, running away from his past, the decisions he had made to escape to at least a different kind of end than drowning at the bottom of the sea in the clutches of a being he had no other power from which to escape? 

“I don’t know,” Fjord said. “I made a deal. I’ve come to fulfill my end of it. I guess that’s all there is, now.” 

Caduceus smiled at him, a warmth dancing in his eyes. “Good,” He said. “That’s very good.”

He stood up. Fjord had to crane his neck up to look at him from where he was sitting. “I think you are a noble person, a brave person.” Fjord tried to protest, but Caduceus held up a hand. “I don’t need to know who you were in the past. I think you have traveled a long distance, to do something very difficult. To fulfil a promise you made. That seems, to me, to be a noble decision.”

Fjord barked out a laugh. “I don’t know about that. At best, I’m running from something else.” 

Caduceus reached out his hand and squeezed his shoulder as he walked past.

“Thank you, Fjord,” he said. Fjord wasn’t sure how he had helped at all. “I think I’m more certain of the path forward now. I believe… I have faith, everything will work out.”

As he walked away, Fjord felt the urge to follow behind him - but to what end, he wasn’t sure. He was just a dead man sitting at a wooden bench with a bowl of soup going cold before him. He certainly didn’t feel brave. He didn’t feel like he’d made any real choices.

If he could make a choice, he’d like to stay here, in this small warm temple with its well-worn furniture and the man who made him feel safe.

It was a nice dream. 

\---

“ _Punish_ ,” the voice in the back of his head hissed.

Fjord woke up in a cold sweat, flinging himself over the side of the bed, so that when he vomited saltwater it splashed onto the floor instead of the blankets. Waves of pain wracked his body, an echo of the dream where Uk’otoa had reached out to crush him. Fjord’s whole body was shuddering. He felt like his guts and every bit of his strength had been sapped out with the violence of his heaving, and now lay abandoned now on the floor along with the seawater. 

“... fuck,” he whispered in the silence, hating how thin and weedy it sounded. He wanted to cry. He wanted to get up out of bed, and find the biggest piece of furniture he could find, and fling it across the floor and at the wall in anger. 

Something touched his shoulder. He jerked back. “Caduceus-”

But it wasn’t his host. A familiar oval face with warm hazel eyes and a mane of hair woven in vine and flowers, had appeared before him. In the sunlight She had appeared to him as bright and bold as the colorful flowers She wore in her hair. Here, in the middle of the night, the Wildmother was decorated almost entirely in shades of blue. It reminded him of the light of a full moon. It reminded him of the sea. 

“Oh, my child,” She said, so gently. “You have had such a long and painful road.”

Fjord felt hot streaks of water begin to fall down his cheeks, despite every effort he had made to resist the urge to cry. 

“I don’t want to die,” He said. 

“Shhh,” She said, and She threw her arms around him, pulling him into her embrace. He tried to resist it at first, tensing up at the pressure, but then began to relax as nothing awful happened. The cold, awful feeling that he had been left with as Uk’otoa cast him aside in his dream was melting away, replaced by a soothing warmth like the sunlight from the first few days of spring, when it finally breaks through the winter. “I know,” She said, “I know. You’ve almost made it through. Just a little while longer.” 

He shook his head, burying his face in his hands. “I don’t understand what I’m supposed to do,” he said, brokenly. 

The warmth floated away, and the Wildmother looked kindly at him. “Fjord, do you trust me?” She asked.

“I don’t know,” he said, truthfully. She nodded, understanding. 

“And do you trust my priest?” 

Fjord thought that was an impossible question. How could he trust someone he’d only just met? But he did, he did, and that was the awful part. “I want to.” 

The Wildmother reached behind her neck, to unfasten her necklace. She presented it to him. It was a delicate white pearl on a slender golden chain. Fjord reached out, and then hesitated. She didn’t pull it away. 

He took it from Her. The pearl was strangely warm to the touch. 

The Wildmother leaned down, and pressed a light kiss to the top of his forehead. Fjord closed his eyes and let the gesture of affection wash over him, clutching the necklace tightly in his hand. He thought when She was near him, he could hear the sound of waves breaking over the shore. 

“Cary my protection with you, and you will be safe.” 

\---

Fjord couldn’t stop fidgeting at breakfast. 

“You look like you didn’t get much sleep,” Caduceus said. He offered him a cup of his morning brew, which Fjord was beginning to learn was a lighter green tea with a slightly orange zest. When Fjord took the cup, their fingers touched. 

Caduceus didn’t seem to notice. He kept on arranging fresh fruit on both their plates, but for Fjord, the spot with their hands had touched felt tingly and strange. 

“Actually, I slept rather well,” he said, which was mostly the truth. After the Wildmother had visited him, he had fallen into a deep, comfortable slumber. He didn’t want to share the details of the dream before that with Caduceus. He didn’t want to be reminded of something so cold and awful, not when it was such a nice morning.

Caduceus handed him his plate, and Fjord managed to say thank you in response. Internally, his thoughts were whirling around on the unexpected consequences of the vision he’d had and the word he’d managed to keep as best as he could to Caduceus for the short time he’d been here.

“I’m heading out,” Caduceus said, in his low, calm voice. He pulled his coat from the rack at the door.

“See you tonight,” Fjord said. 

Caduceus smiled in acknowledgement, and then closed the door behind him. Fjord was left alone with only his thoughts for company.

Crap.

The exact wording of the deal escaped him. He’d never had a knack for precise remembrance. But the content of the deal was simple enough to remember - anything he received or found while he was here, he was to share with the priest of the temple. 

When the Wildmother had pressed a kiss to his brow to comfort him, he hadn’t thought much of it at the time. 

But all during breakfast he had lingered on it. His eyes had followed Caduceus as he moved around the small living space, wondering what it might be like if he reached out and stopped him. Asked if he could bend down slightly, so that Fjord could lean up and press his lips to the corner of Caduceus’s forehead, right above his brow, where the creases sometimes accumulated when the priest was lost in thought.

Wondered if he could dare to kiss him on his lips. Wondered if Caduceus would let him. 

It was too much. The thought of it had him blushing here where he sat alone like a fool, digging his fingers into his own arm to try and stave off the embarrassment. 

It was just a deal! A part of his mind screamed. Don’t offer yourself up for that kind of rejection over nothing at all.

But deals were never just deals, were they? The nature of the deal alone could be binding. It didn’t matter whether or not a supernatural being got involved - that was only just a complication. Uk’otoa had been a mistake, but he had been no more cruel than Avantika, or the orphanage before that. 

Fjord only knew the other side far too well, what happened when a deal fell through or you couldn’t uphold your end of the bargain. You’d get thrown right out on the curb, or else you’d get a bloody nose or worse. It wasn’t about being noble, or brave, or sticking to the path life stuck you on. He only knew the shit life gave you if you didn’t follow it.

And apart from that - he wanted to kiss Caduceus! He really, really, really fucking did! Fjord let his body fall backward onto the couch with a low groan. This was the last possible full day of his life and the only good thing that had happened to him in years had been the last few evenings and early mornings he’d spent with Caduceus. Just being there with him even in comfortable silence was more than he’d gotten from anyone else. 

He wanted to kiss him, and he was running out of time.

And on that note - the necklace. He couldn’t give him the necklace. The Wildmother had granted Her protection to him at a time - at precisely one day’s time - when he would need it the most. This was Her temple and Caduceus was Her priest. Surely, there were allowances to this sort of thing. There was no guarantee that anything She had promised would be a sure thing. But the chance - that was tempting. A light at the end of a dark tunnel, promising a way out. 

It was just enough hope, Fjord thought, that when the eventual and horrible end occurred after all, that it would be all the more painful to have had it then nothing at all.

\---

Caduceus brought back two rabbits on his return.

“You don’t have to do that,” Fjord said, feeling nervous. “I, uh, noticed you don’t eat any meat. I don’t need you to change anything about your meals on my account.”

Caduceus gave him an approving smile. “I didn’t know you’d noticed.” Fjord flushed.

“Don’t worry, Fjord, I’m not crossing any of my personal beliefs. I’ve made this before, many times, for other people. I will not have any.” When Fjord opened his mouth to protest again, Caduceus shook his head. “This is our last night to eat together, and you will be fulfilling your promise tomorrow. I’d like you to enjoy this, and gain strength from it. I know you are facing something difficult soon.”

The last night. Fjord closed his mouth. Right. 

The stew smelled absolutely divine. Fjord still felt like he’d failed somehow in convincing Caduceus he really had been fine with his diet, especially because he was certain he drooled a little when the large stone pot was brought to the table. Additionally, they had bread and a dish full of vegetables to share.

Caduceus handed him a generous portion. For himself, he did abstain from the stew, but just like their other meals together he ate slowly. He seemed more interested in watching Fjord eat than focusing on his own plate.

“How do you like it?” Caduceus asked.

Fjord, mouth full, could only nod in approval. Caduceus laughed, his eyes crinkling around the edges. “I’m glad,” he said. “It really has been a long time.” He looked a little wistful, a little sad.

The concerns Fjord had about his own situation faded for a moment. He swallowed. 

“Your family, the ones you spoke about last time,” Fjord said, “where did they go? Do they ever visit you or are you always....” He spun his fork around them. ‘This alone’ went unspoken. He didn’t want to say it, not out loud. Fjord looked over at this quiet, strange priest with his kind eyes and his sad smile and saw, somehow, the strangest foil. 

Fjord had never been alone. There had always been people around him, but they’d never been family. He’d tried to lean on people only to be betrayed or to lose them; to other people, to the sea. Eventually, he’d stopped trying to reach out at all. 

Caduceus was so different in that he was so clearly used to having other people around, to take care of, and it was easy to see that he missed that. But he had also been left alone for so long and Fjord felt terribly sad for him, for both of them. 

“They’ll be back,” Caduceus said, so quietly that Fjord almost didn’t hear him. “I don’t know where they are, but I have faith.” 

_Do you trust me?_ The Wildmother had asked. _Do you trust my priest?_

“That’s a good thing to have,” Fjord said. “It is nice to have faith in something, in someone.” 

Caduceus looked at him, and smiled. “It is,” he agreed, with such an odd weight to the words that Fjord felt embarrassed and he dropped his head to avoid his gaze. 

“Hey… “ Fjord said. He chuckled. “Listen, this might be an odd thing to ask but, uh.”

“Yes?”

Fjord’s eyes darted up to Caduceus’ face, but he couldn’t manage to hold eye contact for more than a second. He brushed the back of his neck in a sheepish gesture. 

“I have - “ he cleared his throat. “Can I just - hmm. This isn’t working.” 

He heard rather than saw Caduceus stand up and walk over to him, felt the bench shift slightly under his weight as he sat next to him. He could smell that strange, earthy scent that followed the priest everywhere he went. Fjord wondered, if in some strange dream he stayed here for years and years, if that would be something he would pick up as well. 

He saw Caduceus’ hand reach out to touch his own, his long fingers light on the back of Fjord’s hand. 

“Fjord,” Caduceus said, in his low, even tone, “You don’t have to say or do anything. Everything is going to be alright.” 

Fjord chuckled. “That’s not what this is about. Trust me.” He hadn’t spent all day thinking about this, his mind whirling through the possibilities, the reasons behind everything, just to arrive at the wrong conclusion. Eventually it came down this; a matter of obligation or desire. 

He knew what he wanted. He took a deep breath, and lifted his chin. 

“Caduceus,” he said, “Can I kiss you?”

Caduceus’ eyes widened in surprise. Whatever he’d thought Fjord was going to say, this surprised him. Fjord forced himself to hold his gaze and wait patiently, even though his gut instinct was to try and walk it back or laugh it off, in the absence of a clear and quick agreement. 

Caduceus didn’t break the silence after the long pause, only inclined his head. Fjord leaned forward. From this close, he could count every individual eyelash if he had wanted. Caduceus was trembling slightly. Fjord frowned, and reached out to cup his face. 

“... Caduceus,” he said. “Only if you feel okay with it.”

There was a release of breath. “After,” Caduceus said. He opened his eyes again, and he looked strangely sad. “If you still want to kiss me after tomorrow, then I really, really would like to kiss you.” 

Fjord’s heart sank. He wasn’t sure if he’d be here ever again. 

“Alright,” he said. “Tomorrow. It’s a promise.” Caduceus gave him a watery looking smile. It seemed awfully strange that they both didn’t seem to believe it. 

After that, it was very quiet. Fjord finished his food and helped Caduceus clean up the table and wash the dishes. He was very jittery and once when their fingers made contact, he flinched back so quickly that he nearly dropped the pot. Caduceus only just managed to catch it. 

He didn’t seem upset at him, though he never had. He only patted his arm and told him that he’d finish the rest.

So Fjord spent the rest of that evening sitting on his bed and staring at the ceiling. 

Fjord raised his hand to clutch at his shirt and the hidden pearl necklace under it. He could still feel his thrumming heartbeat behind both. 

He couldn’t tell Caduceus about the necklace, or hand it over. Not when he could see a path out from this, where he could maybe return and kiss the priest again, and again, and for many days after that, if he’d let him. Surely this was the only choice he had. Then why did it feel so bad to lie about it?

He turned over to his side, back facing the door, and forced himself to close his eyes and try and drift off to sleep.

\----

Caduceus was already gone the next morning by the time Fjord woke up.

He’d walked downstairs to find that his place at the table had been set with fresh fruits and freshly baked bread on a platter, a fork and knife helply placed beside it. 

Fjord then spent another five or ten minutes looking around the very small temple in case he had simply missed him somewhere, but no - he was gone. No last breakfast. The final memory Caduceus would have of him was an awkward evening where Fjord had made an embarrassment of himself.

He tried to eat the food, but it felt like a rock had grown in his stomach overnight. He picked at the bread and idly formed a little man out of the strawberries before he gave in, and carried it outside to be compost. 

Fjord was scraping the plate’s contents out with his head and listening to the birdsong in the forest around him when it hit him with sudden, horribly clarity.

He should just run.

He laughed, a panicked sound that kept building up and growing until he was crouched over with his arms at his side, almost in pain with hysterics. That had always been the answer, hadn’t it? What the hell was he even thinking of, trying to pull something like this? Was he stupidly brave, or a moron, or both? 

“Ah..” Fjord sighed, and let his body fall even further until he was sitting on the ground in the garden. The morning light fell through the tree leaves, sprinkling a dancing pattern of shadow and light across the flowers and herbs and the climbing vines which crawled over their poles and sometimes part of the fence beyond. The birds were chattering. A few of them were out and about the garden, looking for worms. 

One of them, a pretty little plump brown bird, was trying to search in this directly, only his body was in the way. She tilted her head up to look curiously at him, or maybe she was frustrated. Fjord didn’t know - he couldn’t speak to birds.

In the exact opposite to before, a strange feeling of peace and quiet came over him. It was a hell of a mood swing, but he decided to take it before his mind tried to back out again.

Fjord stood up with a sigh, brushing the dirt off his pants. He scared the brown bird off as she went fluttering into the branches above, and he spared a thought for her, supposing he might as well send a short prayer to the Wildmother to let Her child eat well, without having a clumsy half-orc ruin her morning.

He closed the gate behind him, and looked back over his shoulder at the vine-covered stone temple. 

“Well, I suppose this is goodbye.” Fjord said. He reached into his shirt and ran a thumb over the pearl hidden underneath it. “I hope not. But if it is, thank you for taking care of me.” 

He bowed slightly, then turned quickly away. Even without anyone watching, it had still felt a little strange, but it was the second best thing when he’d missed his chance to say those words to Caduceus himself. 

\----

There had been no clear cut paths in the forest available to him, no signposts or assistance in that fashion. Fjord had fought through tangles and low branches, thorny vines, and biting pests. He had only the small trail marked by white stones by which to guide him, which Caduceus had let him know would lead him there. 

It had taken more time than he had thought. The mileage was a little tougher on the body when the way itself was so difficult to manage, for lack of familiarity, and for the terrain intent on fighting him back. It took him all afternoon and halfway into the evening to find his way there. By the time Fjord had cut through to make it to the next clearing, the sun was already setting and a gentle fog had begun to roll out through the trees around him and heavily to the clearing before him.. . 

The Blooming Grove was a graveyard. 

At least, that’s what Fjord hazarded to guess looking out over it. Through the fog he was able to make out rows and rows of graves spirling up the slight hill. It was clearer to see the ones nearest to him at the bottom were marked by small stone piles and wooden symbols sticking up from the ground. There was a strong smell of decay thick in the air, and Fjord was not sure if it came from the Grove or deeper yet in the forest beyond it.

And at the top of the hill, stood the tall silhouette of the Green Knight. 

It had been a year and a day, but Fjord could not forget his presence. Grimly, he drew the Star Razor out at his side. The silver sheen of the blade turned blue, and it gave off a faint light. He began to walk up the hill.

For his part, the Green Knight only waited as Fjord approached, never moving. For all Fjord knew, he could have been here since the day he left the Squall-Eater. As Fjord came closer, the details of his appearance grew sharper out from the fog. He was almost entirely covered by a cloak made of moving vines and living roots, crawling over the Green Knight’s body as though trying to hide him from any watchful eyes. 

One hand was rested on his large shield as though for balance. The other, he held out in front of him. They both were covered with mushrooms which grew out of his skin. 

Fjord grimaced, and before he could let his fear gain hold of him, he placed the hilt of the Star Razor in the Green Knight’s open palm. 

The Green Knight, still unnervingly silent, raised the blade above him. He seemed to be looking closely at the hilt. 

Fjord laughed. It came out strained, with little humor. “I returned it just as I promised. You won’t find Uk’otoa’s presence, if that’s what you’re concerned for.”

Satisfied, the Green Knight let the sword drop. He pointed it towards the ground before him.

Fjord understood what he was to do next. He wished he didn’t. 

He dropped to his knees, and lowered his head to expose his neck. Out of the corner of his eye, he could watch as the Green Knight’s form moved closer. There was no saltwater or seaweed falling from each footfall now. In the dead silence around them, each step felt like the loudest sound Fjord had ever heard. 

He squeezed his eyes shut as the Green Knight breathed. He imagined the sword being pulled up over his head, in the same manner he had that year ago. It felt like a lifetime. 

The fear was overwhelming. Fjord threw himself sideways onto the ground, just in time to avoid the arc of the sword crashing to him. He stared at the blade sticking out from the dirt where his body had just rested. His heartbeat was pounding loudly in his ears. 

“Shit - fuck - I can’t do this. I can’t,” Fjord said, “I can’t.” 

The Green Knight didn’t laugh or jeer. He didn’t say anything at all. He wrenched the sword out from the dirt, and he waited. 

It took some time for Fjord to fight himself back into some measure of calm. He wasn’t sure how long it was, but by the time he’d managed to breath more evenly, it seemed that the light around them had dimmed further still.

Fjord swore under his breath, and pushed himself up on his arms. “Just get it done with.” 

Again he watched the Green Knight approach. Again, he closed his eyes, and he waited. And he … waited. Fjord opened his eyes, wondering if that had been it - if he had managed to go painlessly into whatever waited for him after death. But the dirt beneath his fingers was still the same, and the night was growing darker still. 

Just when he thought he couldn’t bear it anymore, he saw from the corner of his eye the Green Knight drop the shimmering blue blade of the Star Razor back to his side. 

“Are you hesitating?” Fjord bellowed, his anger growing strongly from the root of his fear. “You can’t be the one backing out now - this is your idea, your ‘game’ - fuck your hesitation!” 

He stood shakily on his feet, reaching out for the sword. He had no idea what he was going to do with it. He didn’t have a plan, he was just teetering on the edge of hysteria and exhaustion.

The Green Knight reached out as Fjord approached, placing his free hand on Fjord’s chest, under where the pearl necklace was hidden beneath his shirt and right above his heart. Oddly gentle, he didn’t attempt to grab or move him away. He only stopped Fjord from moving any further. 

Fjord ignored his sense of caution. What was the Green Knight going to do? Kill him? He reached out and grabbed the wrist of the hand stopping him from moving forward. The strange growth slipped past his fingers - as though they weren’t really there. 

“I need you to either cut my neck off or fuck off,” Fjord growled. 

They stood there in the growing dark, the fog level almost to their chins. Fjord couldn’t make out the features past the cloak this time, not even the eyes, but he could hear the Green Knight breathing. His breaths came out shakily and his wrist trembled where Fjord gripped it. Finally, his breathing evened. The Green Knight inclined his head. 

It was an odd time to no longer feel afraid. But that was what Fjord felt as he fell to his knees. The third time lowering his head felt like a ritual. He’d spent a year in denial, in fear, in heartache over this. Now, no matter what happened, there would be an end. 

There was a slight sting at the back of his neck, and then a resounding crack like thunder followed by a roaring wind. The violence of it threw Fjord into the dirt. He pulled himself from the mud to find that nothing had happened at all - the fog is still rolling gently over the graves, their markers untouched. The trees beyond the clearing also look exactly as they were.

Fjord raised a hand to the back of his neck, and with a hiss of pain, withdrew to find blood coating his fingertips.

Confused, he looked to the Green Knight for answers - but he was already kneeling beside him. Clumsy, almost in a panicked fashion, he was reaching out to Fjord’s shirt. Fjord reacted too slowly to push him away, and wound up clawing at his arms as the Green Knight pulled the hidden pearl necklace the Wildmother had presented to keep him safe - and snapped the chain, removing it entirely from Fjord.

“That’s mine -” Fjord shouted, but the rest of the words died on his lips. 

The pearl held between the Green Knight’s thumb and forefinger was cracked slightly. There, in the milky white depths, Fjord could almost see the familiar golden eye. 

“It’s a very particular curse, you see,” The Green Knight said, very quietly. 

And Fjord knew that voice, he knew but he couldn't deal with the immensity of that now, not while he was facing a broken curse, something that had ruled over him for so long, he'd begun to believe he never would escape it. He stared, aghast, at the eye that was the center of his dreams for power and his many, many nightmares in the past five years. Disbelievingly, he reached out for the falchion. It didn’t come. He tried again. It wouldn’t come to his call. Despite everything, he almost could laugh. 

So caught up in was Fjord in the wonderment of this, he almost didn't notice that the necklace had begun to plume out smoke, drops of black ichor falling from the Green Knight clutched fingers where he clutched it tightly. The Green Knight wasn't looking at it and he didn't appear to be noticing any pain. He was looking directly at Fjord.

Fjord crawled over to him. "Caduceus," he said, and reached out towards him. 

Caduceus flinched away from his grasp, but he did drop the necklace onto the ground. Fjord watched the eye within the pearl rise once more to the surface, as though it was trying to escape. Caduceus began to pile clumps of dirt on it.

Fjord stood up. 

"Caduceus," he repeated. "What is going on?"

"It won't be hard," Caduceus said. He wasn't looking at him, focusing intently on his growing pile of dirt. "The forest always knows where you want to go. It is only difficult to get somewhere if it doesn't want you there. If you start now, you'll be there before nightfall."

"Be where, Caduceus?" Fjord asked.

"The village." The vines were starting to climb up his face once more. Fjord wondered how he could stand it. "I don't remember what they're calling it now. It was so long ago since I have last visited. But you will be safe. The wood, or this part of it at least, is safe for you now."

Fjord moved forward. Caduceus hied away from his touch like a startled horse, but he did allow him to place on hand on his arm under the crook of his elbow, and pull him up to his feet. Fjord could feel movement from the strange, wild cloak underneath his fingers, as the vines there began to curl around his hand slightly. He had a feeling if he left it there, they'd grow together. Fjord didn't move his hand.

"I need you to tell me what this is, what just happened. Can you do that?" Fjord asked. 

Caduceus ducked his head. Fjord saw very little of his expression, now masked and cloaked with shadow and vine. 

"... and now you know me for the monster," he said. Fjord wasn't sure if it had been all he said, or if more had been cut off. Caduceus was so quiet that he had barely caught any of it. His grip tightened on his arm. 

"What was this all about?" Fjord said, voice right on the edge of desperate. "My life the last year, the last three days, all of this. I really need to understand. Please help me understand." 

Caduceus' strange pink eyes met his at last. "It wasn't about you," he said. "At first. We came for Avantika."

And that made some kind of awful sense to Fjord. He'd never really been anyone's first choice for anything. He wasn't sure why the thought curdled in his stomach like sour milk when this - whatever it was - didn't seem like anything someone would wish on themselves, but it still faintly stung anyway. 

"' _We_ ' came for Avantika. You and the Wildmother?" Fjord asked. 

He thought the wild creature's head inclined slightly at that in confirmation. "That being you ran afoul of, the serpent of the deep. We felt his chains break even from this distant place. The seas are as much her domain as the mountains, as this very wood. Something had to be done. And I am the only one here left to do it." 

Fjord frowned. He could understand why She would have reacted, but it still felt like a puzzle before him to which he was missing the most important pieces.

"So what was the goal? You arrived like - like you are now," He gestured, which made Caduceus step slightly away from him once more. His frown deepened. "To - to what, to scare her and us, the rest of the fleet? To behead her?"

"No," Caduceus said. "Not there, not at that time."

"Here," Fjord realized. "Here, she was meant to be here not me. You meant for her to take the challenge." He could imagine it now, thinking back to how greedily she looked to the Star Razor. If he hadn't stepped forward, she might have been the very next one. 

"Yes," Caduceus sighed. There was a reverberation of it in the forest around them, a gust of wind that blew past the trees and sent leaves and dust kicking up into the slowly parting fog around the graves surrounding them. 

"I don't think that would've worked," Fjord said. "I don't think she would've gone for it, Caduceus. She's more of a tough nut than I ever was. I think she would've spat in your face, and kept your sword."

"The rules are different if you defy it," Caduceus said, and his voice was different, much colder and much more ancient than he had ever sounded. It sent a chill straight through Fjord's bones and he shuddered. 

The mist around them had almost completely pulled away. Above them, the stars were beginning to appear in the night sky. It almost felt peaceful.

"Instead, it was me."

"Yes." The vines pulled back somewhat from Caduceus' face. Fjord could make out the smallest of smiles now, as well as his eyes and his nose, his cheekbones, far more clearly than before. He felt his shoulders relax somewhat at the sight of it, the familiarity of his features really confirming that this was his priest under everything. It wasn't what he'd thought, but it didn't disturb him as much as Fjord thought it probably should. Somehow seeing him like this made sense, like he was a part of the forest he lived in, not living apart from it.

"I didn't defy it," Fjord said.

"No," Caduceus' voice was warm. He looked at Fjord, and there was something admiring in the gaze. "You were - you are a very much not what we expected. Not what I expected. You are... incredibly brave, Fjord. Whatever else you take away from this night, know that I was proud of you. You did so well."

Fjord's breath caught in his throat. "Thank you," he managed to say.

"You made me terrified," Caduceus said. "I didn't think much of it until you were here, and I got to know what kind of man you were. If you had stepped off the path at any time, you would have been safe. I grew... very fond of you Fjord, despite our short time together."

"Right," Fjord said, smartly. That echoed in his head. _Fond_ of him. Caduceus was fond of him. Caduceus, who was the Green Knight, thought Fjord was brave. He was proud of him. it was a lot on top of everything else. He forced himself back on track. "So this - ceremony - always had a way out?" 

A small crease appeared on Caduceus' brow. "I wouldn't name it as such, a way out. These things are complicated magic. They take time to set up and to change any part of it, at any time, is incredibly delicate work. But if you had left at any time, I would have managed to stop it." He glanced away. "Whatever that took." 

"Instead, I stayed."

"Yes." Caduceus smiled. 

"And the necklace, the Wildmother, Uk'otoa, all of that. That means, I'm free now?" 

"It means that one lock has back around the serpent's neck, and yes, it does mean you are unbound from him in turn." They both looked at the small pile of dirt which lay over the necklace, one tiny strange grave in a larger convergence of them. "This isn't an easy place to escape, if you are no friend to it. That was why it must have taken place here and in this manner."

"But I am. A friend to it, I mean."

"You are." 

Fjord felt the last of the tension wash from his body, from the set of his shoulders and uncurl from his spine. He felt like a pressure he'd carried with him for years had finally unwound itself. He felt new, he felt clean. Most importantly, most incredibly, he felt safe. 

“And what do I do now?”

The tired lines around Caduceus’ face eased. “Anything you want,” he said, “You have to answer that question for yourself. You're free from any obligation or deal or bargain you've ever had. Where do you want to go? If you could go anywhere in the world, this would be the time for it, I'd think.” 

“Okay, good.” Fjord said. “Because I want to go home. I’m tired, Caduceus, and I think it is going to take me some time to process all this shit. So I’m pretty sure the only next step I care about is getting some rest.” 

Caduceus looked a little confused around at the forest line, as though he was looking for a sign to pop up that said 'this way to direct Fjord home', because Fjord was thinking he hadn't really caught on yet. "I'm not sure it works that way, I think it can only take you to the village -"

Fjord grabbed his sleeve, and tugged at it. Caduceus, obediently, turned his way. 

"I understand now," Fjord said. "About the kiss." Caduceus' eyes widened slightly. "I just wanted to know - if you still want to - I think you said, we could?" He'd started off feeling a little bold, but his sentence trailed off in a question despite himself. After everything that happened, yes, this still made him feel nervous. 

Caduceus let out a breath. "Why would you want to?" He asked. His eyes were locked on Fjord's hand, where his bloodstained fingertips were clinging to his arm. "I hurt you, Fjord. I deceived you."

Fjord laughed. "I think I remember cutting off your head. Don't see you holding that against me." Caduceus frowned at him, but Fjord wasn't taking this lightly at all, and he wasn't sure how to impress that on him. Fjord tried to find the words for it, speak to it as true as he was feeling. "I've been thinking about that kiss since you promised it to me, of how I could possibly manage to get through this situation and out on the other end in order to get back to you, and that's real now. I can't tell you for certain about everything I'm feeling right now because that's got to settle first." He reached up, placed a hand on Caduceus' cheek. The vines around it moved out of the way to allow him better access which was facinating on a number of different levels. 

"What I do know - and I know it, more than I know anything, is that I really - really - like you. And I think you like me back?" 

Caduceus shook his head, helplessly. "Yes," he said. 

"Yes," Fjord echoed. He ran a thumb over Caduceus' cheekbone. "So, uh. Can I kiss you?"

Caduceus managed to look both fond and exasperated at the same time. He leaned forward, just enough to close the gap between them, and stopped. Still allowing him time to back out or make a different decision. Fjord made up the difference. The kiss was sweet, it was chaste and still a little uncertain. Fjord wasn't sure how far he wanted to press and Caduceus seemed unpracticed. Even the contact alone brought a feeling of warm to his chest, a giddiness that had him laughing again as they pulled away. 

He leaned forward, pressed his forehead to Caduceus'. “You asked me if I could pick anywhere in the world to go - and I’ve thought about it a lot over the last few days, where I'd possibly go or what I'd possibly do if I managed to avoid my fate - I’d want to be back at the temple. I’d want to be with you. It all comes back to that. So, I already made up my mind Caduceus. This doesn't change it for me.” 

Caduceus’ shoulders relaxed. Fjord hadn’t realized until now that he had been holding himself so tightly, maybe ever since they’d met - or, he supposed, the second time they’d met. Caduceus looked younger somehow with his shoulders slumped slightly forward, their foreheads pressed together. The vines surrounding him had begun to move to Fjord as well, just lightly touching and curling around his arms where they were around Caduceus' shoulders, not clinging. It almost felt like they were curious of them, if Fjord wanted to go as far as start assigning some kind of personality to the cloak.

He shook his head, trying to sort out his thoughts. Caduceus was looking straight at him, almost unblinking, like he was looking for guidance. Fjord wasn't sure he could give him all of that, but maybe the first step.

“We can go home, sleep on this really weird day. And then, we can have breakfast in the morning,” Fjord said. "And we can talk about it. About all of it. Does that sound good?"

Caduceus smiled. He looked at Fjord like he was a wonder. “Yeah,” he said, “I’d like that.”

Fjord reached out, grabbed his hand. It was cool within his own, but it felt right somehow.

**Author's Note:**

> This was for the day three prompt: fairytale au. Sir Gawain and the Green Knight is not a fairytale but it probably is fine. 
> 
> This setting is very close to canon but slightly askew to the left, for example Fjord never met Vandarn, and the Blooming Grove refers strictly to the graveyard and it and the temple for everyday use are separate though still connected in worship. Caduceus and his family are also all Just Like That in this. Where are the rest of the Clays? I hope they're okay. Seems like a creature of that nature could be very useful for studying and raw materials, if you happen to be an evil wizard or something looking for a way to extend your lifespan.
> 
> Today’s song I took the lyrics from to make a title is ‘Two Men in Love’ by the Irrepressibles, which is, you guessed it, part of my fjorclay playlist. You can find that linked in my earlier fics if you're inclined. Or just look that song up, I recommend it.


End file.
